


will you love me like you loved me and i'll never ask for more

by Baebadook, nevershootamockingbird



Category: UnDeadwood (Web Series)
Genre: Angry Sex, Cunnilingus, M/M, PWP, Trans Clayton, UnDeadwood Mini-series (Critical Role), Vaginal Fingering, with a side of emotions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:47:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21775432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baebadook/pseuds/Baebadook, https://archiveofourown.org/users/nevershootamockingbird/pseuds/nevershootamockingbird
Summary: “Fuck you,” is all he says, presses his hands against Matty’s chest with every intention of pushing him away, or maybe even punching him, but instead he digs his fingers into the soft material of his shirt, watches the way the taller man’s eyes dip down to his mouth before sliding back up to meet his.Matthew nods once. “Alright, then.”Clayton’s opening his mouth to ask what the hell he’s going on about when Matthew leans down and covers his lips with his own.
Relationships: Reverend Matthew Mason/Clayton Sharpe
Comments: 8
Kudos: 111





	will you love me like you loved me and i'll never ask for more

**Author's Note:**

> So [Baebadook](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baebadook) hit me with the idea of Clayson hate sex, which we managed to turn into "angry because you scared me because I love you" sex, since we never manage to actually write anything that isn't porn with feelings. 
> 
> Clayton and Matthew, fierce and fucking and facing their emotions, finally. 
> 
> Enjoy :)

The bedroom door shuts sharply behind them, and Clayton finally reaches out to shove at Matthew’s back like he’s been itching to do for the last two hours it took them to reach Bella’s house. 

“What the _hell_ were you thinkin’?” He spits out as Matthew whirls on him, a dangerous look in his eyes, but Clayton’s wound up and there’s a fire in his chest, something that feels like fear but burns like anger. “What the fuck was that, you goddamn idiot?”

“Worked out fine, didn’t it?” Matthew shoots back, and Clayton scoffs, reaches out again, but Matthew meets him this time, knocks his hands away before gripping at his lapels, gaze narrow and unreadable. “What the hell’s gotten into you?”

“Fuck you,” is all he says, presses his hands against Matty’s chest with every intention of pushing him away, or maybe even punching him, but instead he digs his fingers into the soft material of his shirt, watches the way the taller man’s eyes dip down to his mouth before sliding back up to meet his. 

Matthew nods once. “Alright, then.”

Clayton’s opening his mouth to ask what the hell he’s going on about when Matthew leans down and covers his lips with his own. 

It’s not a gentle kiss, a flash of teeth and a hand knocking his hat off his head, fingers tugging at the snarls in his hair, but Clayton moans and presses into the warm body in front of him all the same, surges up and gives as good as he gets.

Shirts are pulled off none too gently, a button or two getting lost in the process, and Matthew grips at him so tight there are sure to be bruises, but Clayton just digs his bitten off nails into whatever skin he can find as payback. They're breathing hard, tripping and stumbling and shoving their way to the bed, and the anger is still there but so is another kind of heat.

"That was so fuckin' stupid," Clayton hisses against his lips, hands traveling down to pull and fiddle with Matthew's belt.

"Got her out of the way, though," Matthew grumbles, so low it’s almost a growl, and Clayton's entire body shudders against him.

 _At the near cost of your life?_ he means to say, but Matthew ducks his head down to suck and bite sharply at his collarbone and Clayton can only moan.

Clayton ends up getting shoved down onto the bed, Matthew tugging his boots and socks off and tossing them carelessly behind himself before yanking Clayton's pants down and off. His own pants are still on, and Clayton kind of wants to bitch at him to get out of them already, but then the reverend is grinning a little mean and shoving his thighs apart and leaning in to lick over where he's already so fucking wet, and all rational thought leaves Clayton's head for a minute.

Matthew sucks on his clit and slides two fingers into him like he's done this before and Clayton's brain kinda stalls on that thought, and then he’s whining low as he tries to roll his hips up onto those thick fingers.

"Fuckin' cheater." Matthew just hums low, and the vibrations make Clayton gasp. He tries to shift his hips, to rock down against him, but Matthew uses his free arm to pin him down easy, and it shouldn't make Clayton that much wetter but damn him if it doesn't.

"Goddamn infuriating," he bites out, anything else quelling on his tongue when Matthew glances up to look at his face with eyes blown wide, still licking against his cunt like it's his damn job.

"You talk too much," Matthew finally says, and that frustration and anger still simmering lights anew.

Clayton smiles, a little mean, and snarls, "Shut me up then, _Reverend_."

Matthew really does growl, this time, and Clayton's thighs lock down on Matthew's hand with a certain kinda fierceness that he has no control over.

Matthew's moving back up the bed, then, licking into his mouth, and Clayton can taste himself on the other man’s tongue, chases after it and nips at Matthew's lips just because he can, just because he’s a little shit and he’s still angry and he wants Matt to feel it as much as he does.

The fingers in his cunt don't stop moving, thrusting and rubbing up just at the right spot, and soon Clayton is whining and gripping tight at the back of Matthew's neck, panting as Matt grins and licks at his mouth and presses his thumb hard against his clit. 

It's not quite enough, pushes him right to the edge and he drags his other hand over Matt's back, bites at his lower lip, "Matty, you fucker, c'mon."

Matthew just chuckles, eyes dark and smile mean and just says, "Dunno if you've fuckin' earned it."

They're both a little taken aback when Clayton tenses up and comes with a low cry.

Clay shudders through it, gasping as he starts to relax. He flushes dark, opens his mouth to say something, anything, when Matthew starts thrusting his fingers again, growling low and twisting a third one in, stretching him so fucking good it's all he can do to whine and just take it, so wet that he can fucking hear it.

"I don't recall giving you permission to come," Matthew says then, low and gravelly, and the anger licks it's way back up Clayton's spine, twists with the arousal into something molten, and it's gratifying to hear Matthew groan when he drags his nails over his shoulders.

"I don't recall askin', Matty," he pants back, biting at his lower lip and rocking his hips down against the fingers still thrusting into his cunt. 

There's danger in the preacher's eyes, but Clayton would be lying if he said it didn't turn him on that much more.

Matthew keeps staring at him, _watching_ him, biting harsh kisses into his skin and setting his insides on fire. He's so keyed up he feels like he could overheat eventually, and it certainly doesn't help that Matt keeps working his three fingers down inside of him, the room seemingly filled with the sounds of his slick sliding against his fingers and his panting breaths, hot and harsh and heavy.

He’s not expecting it when Matthew retracts his hand completely, and Clayton's torn between biting out a kiss and begging for it, but he won't give him the satisfaction of the latter, would much rather wind him up more to see what happens.

Matthew just looks at him, heavy-lidded and dark as he slides off the bed, finally working at getting his own boots and pants completely off, and Clayton grins, reaches down his body and slides three of his own fingers into his cunt, moaning and rolling his hips down against his hand. Matthew stops for a moment, letting out a sound like he's been punched in the gut, and Clayton feels a surge of vicious glee at the sound. 

"You gonna take all damn day there, Matty? Or you gonna finish what you started?" And he's working himself up now, rubbing his thumb right up against his clit as he continues to fuck his fingers into his cunt, broken moans spilling from his mouth. 

He's not really sure which of them is enjoying the slick sounds more as he keeps fucking himself.

"Didn't say you could touch," Matthew finally breathes out, shoving his pants off and kneeling back on the bed between Clayton's spread thighs, and the words send another jolt of heat to his gut. 

He licks his lips, bares his teeth in a mockery of a grin as he says, "Didn't know I answered t'you, Father."

Matthew breathes out swift and hot through his nose, eyes raking over his body, down, down, until he's staring at his fingers slipping wet and shiny out of himself and he reaches out a hand to grip at Clayton's wrist, squeezing just enough, palm and thick fingers applying just enough pressure to where he can't fuck himself open anymore, has to just hold it there and whine as that precipice slips back away from his grasp once again. 

"Tonight you do," Matthew says finally, tone heady and dark, rolling over his skin and setting his nerves alight. Matthew slips his fingers out of him and tugs at his wrist until they're close enough he can lick, sinks his lips down to the knuckle and laps at Clayton's slick, tongue darting out to curl around his digits. Clayton can't ever recall a time where his eyes have gotten so wide, except maybe when Matthew blew away Wild Bill in the thoroughfare. He swallows hard, heart hammering in his chest.

Matthew cleans up his fingers real nice, until they’re slick and shiny all over again, before moving his wrist up, gripping at his other hand, too, and pinning them together above his head. He only needs one to keep him steady there, and his other travels down Clayton's arm until he gets to the shoulder.

Whereas the rest of his movements have been all vigor and heat, push and pull, this one is soft. Gentle. He moves to his neck, thumb barely pressing down against his Adam's apple, and Clayton instinctively swallows at the sensation, Matthew’s thumb digging a bit deeper in as he does so. He knows, knows that Matthew could press down at any moment but he won't, and it makes him feel a bit dizzy. Drunk on that power that Matthew has- in his frame, in his words.

"If you promise to behave I might let you come a few times," and he says it so serenely, so simple. Clayton groans. He could press his buttons more, try to fight it, to gain back some semblance of control. He doesn't know what's scarier: that he isn't trying, or that he doesn't even want to try.

Clayton breathes in deep, swallows again just to feel the pressure of Matthew's thumb at his throat. The hand around his wrists twitch, like some kind of reaction, and Clayton feels all the fight bleed out of him, tension leaving with it as he melts down into the mattress completely. His voice sounds almost foreign to his ears as he murmurs, "I promise I will, Matty."

Matthew inhales sharply, then smiles, slow and pleased and so warm that something in Clayton's chest clenches. The thumb resting against his Adam's apple strokes gently over his throat once before he moves his hand away entirely, fingers skimming slowly down Clayton's body. His voice is low as he rumbles out, "Good boy."

Clayton can't even help to hold back the whine he lets out at that.

Matthew keeps trailing his hand down, down, over the soft swell of his stomach and down a thigh, swooping inwards a bit but never skimming close enough to press against Clayton's cunt like he _really_ wants him to, and he squirms a bit, instinctively, and Matthew raises a single brow. A warning, a squeeze to the wrists, and he stills.

Matthew takes that same hand and helps line himself up with Clayton's cunt, and Clayton can only watch with heavy lidded eyes, crane his neck to glance down as much as he can to see the precome dripping from the tip. Matthew pauses for a moment, sliding the head of his cock against his folds and spreading them open, rubbing against his hole and against his clit. Clayton stutters out a sharp breath at the sensation, has to stop himself from frantically trying to work his hips down so his pussy can swallow up Matthew's thick cock. Yearning for it in a way he hasn't for a long time, if ever.

He wants to walk that line again, could even come from just these fucking touches, knows damn well that the way Matthew grinds his cock head against his clit could push him there. Clayton wants to come on his dick and grind over it until it spreads his folds. Wants to swallow it up so bad he's fucking aching for it.

And maybe he can tell that, in the way Clayton's leaking over his cock and into the sheets, because Matthew finally grants him the mercy of slipping inside of him. Fitting into him just right that it punches a gasp out of him. He gets a leg around Matthew's hip and presses in, desperate to have him sunk to the hilt in his tight heat.

Matthew tuts softly, leans over his body to whisper in his ear, grip on his wrists still anchoring him. "I said be good, sweetheart,” and Clayton's body sings at the tone. And then he's biting at Clayton's neck again, high enough it's gonna be visible to anyone who pays enough attention, and slides himself down and fully in in one quick and rough thrust of his hips.

Clayton keens at the sensation of Matthew's cock filling him, hot and thick and stretching him so damn good. Matthew groans low against his throat, tonguing over the mark he's just left, and squeezes Clayton's wrists gently, free arm bracing against the mattress. 

"You feel better than I ever thought," and the words, the hoarseness of Matty's voice, shouldn't do so much for him but goddamn if Clayton doesn't gasp like he's been burned, arching up just to try and press himself more fully against Matthew. A heavy body presses him back down, teeth nipping lightly at his jaw as, and Clayton can't believe how close he is already.

He can be good. God help him, for Matty, he wants to be good. 

"Matty, please," he begs, too needy already to be embarrassed about the whine in his voice, and Matthew groans again, hips rocking once, a slow drag of his cock that has Clayton moaning brokenly, before he stills. 

"Please what, darlin’?" And Matthew finally shifts enough that Clayton has to meet his eyes, dark and intense, smoldering. 

He licks his lips, watches the way Matthew's gaze flickers down to watch his mouth, swallows his pride and asks, "Matty, please, fuck me."

Matthew growls low, vibrating against his skin and Clayton can't even hold in the dazed and frayed " _holy fuck_ " that he whispers right before they're kissing again. Deep and rough and hot slides of tongue and it's so damn good, shuddering and clenching around Matthew's cock. Matthew groans again, exhaling hot and shaky into his mouth and Clayton is goddamn desperate, about ready to forsake his pride again and beg against his lips when Matthew finally breaks away.

"Well, you did say please," Matthew says mildly, breath wet and ghosting over his chin, and Clayton fucking whines and twitches his hips. He feels like a bitch in heat the way he's carrying on, wet and leaking around Matthew's cock.

Matthew doesn't seem to mind too much, though, because he's finally- finally- shifting just enough on his knees for better leverage.

Clayton’s hands squeeze and tense, still kept in place by Matthew’s fucking hand, and he knows he's gonna bruise when they're done, doesn't know where he won't be bruised, truth be told. He catches sight of one of the bites he’s left on Matty’s skin, the rough trails of white standing out against his back as he ducks his head to rest his forehead against Clayton's shoulder, and feels a deep seated smugness that he’s marked the other man up, too.

And then Matthew’s snapping his hips up into him, and Clayton's mouth falls open but he can't even produce a sound.

Mathew fucks him hard, thrusts quick and deep and rough, and Clayton takes it, can do nothing but take it, doesn't want to do anything but be forced to take it. He tightens his leg over Matthew's hip, and the next thrust drags just right, makes him keen high.

"That said right, sweetheart, let me hear you," murmured low, lips dragging against his shoulder, and there's something like an order in Matthew's voice that Clayton is helpless not to obey. 

He whines, and Matthew responds with a groan, still fucking into him steadily. Each thrust pushes him closer to the edge, forces moans and whines and gasps out of his throat, and Clayton flexes his wrists in Matthew's hand just to feel the way his fingers tighten that much further. 

He wants every fucking physical reminder of tonight he can take, and as Matthew sinks teeth into his shoulder with a moan, Clayton squeezes his eyes shut against a sudden sting of tears and thinks, _keep me keep me keep me keep me._

Matthew hikes Clayton's other leg over his hip and Clayton lets him, whines high at the difference in position. Locks his ankles together and squeezes his thighs tight against either side of him. Willing him on, willing him deeper and harder.

_Willing him to stay._

" _Please_." He doesn't know what he's even asking for at this point, just wants it so bad, emotions on high and muddled and dizzying. He keeps his eyes shut so tight and maybe, just maybe, if Matthew can see the drops that cling to the edges, to his lashes, he'll chalk it up to the pleasure he's giving him. It's not like it's that far off base, anyways.

"Fuck." Matthew keeps fucking him hard all throughout, and keeps sliding against that spot inside of him until his thighs quake, both from the pleasure and the fierceness upon which he's squeezing his hips.

"I've got you." Another squeeze to his wrists, keeping him from floating away. Another warm slide of lips against his neck, tonguing at his pulse point. "Doing so good for me sweetheart. So good."

Of course it'd be that that does him in. Slams him over the edge, his second orgasm finally washing over him, and he sobs, broken and put together again. Mumbling words he can't even hear with the blood rushing in his ears.

" _Sogooddon'tstoppleasematthewsofuckinggood._ "

He's gushing from it, he can tell. Slick and loud in the room and so much, wet sliding down his thighs and soaking the sheets, and Matthew just pitches another heady groan at the feel of Clayton coming on his dick, slick squelching and sliding around him.

Matthew doesn't stop, fucks him through it and mouths at his pulse again, and Clayton takes it, can do nothing else, tilts his chin back and bares his throat and submits, wants to do nothing else. He's crying now, really crying, when he finally opens his eyes to stare at the ceiling, voice starting to slur as he begs, "Matty, Matty, _please_."

"Sweetheart," pressed into his skin, interrupted by a flash of teeth that he knows will bruise, high up enough it'll be impossible to hide, and he keens, thinks about everyone knowing that someone wanted him enough to leave something behind, even just once, "sweetheart, I've got you."

He's coming again at that, or maybe he's just still coming, can't even tell, pleasure swelling and pulsing through him, slick gushing out around Matthew's cock and pelvis and down onto the sheets, the damp spot under him growing steadily.

"Beautiful," Matthew croons, sounding a little breathless, pressing wet kisses up his neck and jaw until he can lick into Clayton's mouth, until he can gently kiss the tear tracks on his cheeks, "beautiful, that's right, good boy, let me feel it. Let me see you."

Clayton's gaze finally lands to him, and he's slipping under, falling into Matthew's dark warm eyes and he's trembling, he realizes, a full body one.

Matthew's hand on his wrist pulls away, and cool air laps at where his hold had encompassed him, the skin hot and sweaty, and it's like the dam's broken. Matthew holds him close, presses down fully against him, and Clayton sobs again, arms aching from the strain of being pinned, but he just wraps them around Matthew and clings, clutches on like if he tries hard enough maybe Matthew will just meld into him until they're one, until he's completely full in every sense of the word and this wonderfully kind, infuriating man is with him forever and always.

That hand that held him slips down to cup his cheek for a moment as Matthew presses a soft kiss to his mouth. His hand keeps sliding over his skin, still almost scalding his skin until it settles at his pelvis, thumb digging and pressing against his clit and the next gasp that tears itself from his lips feels like his voice has been dragged through glass, jagged and broken just as he is. He's quivering and clamping down against him again as another orgasm bowls him over and leaves him strung out.

Matthew makes a noise in the back of his throat, breath coming out in stutters and stops and he rolls his hips. "So fucking gorgeous." Clayton almost believes him.

Clayton's shaking harder, now, pressing his face into Matthew's shoulder as he whines and gasps, clutching at him as tightly as he can. He feels overwhelmed, oversensitive, but Matthew doesn't stop fucking into him, doesn’t stop rubbing firmly at his clit. 

"One more for me, darlin', I know you can do it," and he's finally starting to sound as wrecked as Clayton feels, his voice strained, his breathing coming faster. Clayton nods, can't speak, just whines and mouths at Matthew's shoulder, digs blunt nails into the broad expanse of his back trembling as he feels another orgasm building fast and hot. 

"Matty," he slurs, lashes damp with tears once more, turning his head just enough to tuck his face into Matthew's neck, "Matty, Matthew, please, please"

Matthew groans, and his hand slips away from Clayton's clit, down to where's he slick and hot and stretched open, and on the next thrust two fingers push in alongside his cock, and Clayton's entire body seizes up.

"C'mon, baby, give it to me," an order, a growl, and Clayton obeys, coming with his mouth stretched open around a silent scream as he comes and comes and comes.

His lungs are burning by the time he comes back down, chest shuddering just like the rest of him as Matthew talks him back down to earth.

"Breathe, baby, I got you. Knew you could do it. So good to me." Each sentence is punctuated with a kiss, the last one pressed gently against his sweaty temple, and somehow that feels more intimate than anything they've done in this bed thus far.

He's still trembling, breath still hitching. Chest heaving, eyes wet and glistening. His whole body feels tired, deep down to the bone, numb and sated and whole.

"Matty," He breathes out- and it is nothing much beyond a breath-and presses his fingertips into Matthew's back, rubs and smooths down his spine, desperate to try and convey what his words would fail to. Matthew hums softly against his throat, presses a kiss to the underside of his jaw, hips moving at an uneven staccato.

"I know, sweetheart. Hold on for me," and he does, buries his face back against the crook of Matthew's neck and breathes him in and shuts his eyes. Clayton can feel his pulse underneath his skin, feel the way that he's working hard towards his own climax and does his best to press into him, oversensitive and wrecked as he may be. He clenches around his cock, scratches blunt and chewed nails at his back in the way Matthew seemed to like. He could probably get there one more time, if he tried hard enough, but his body is spent enough as it is.

"Fuck,” Matthew bites out as he pulls away, cool air encroaching where his body used to be (Matthew always did run like a goddamn furnace). He starts to pull out of him, and Clayton whines high, scrabbles to keep him in close, can't bear the thought of him any further from him than he already, right now.

"Don't stop,” and it’s a beg, a plea, the closest thing he’s gotten to a prayer in too many years. 

Matthew’s gaze makes it all worth it.

"Christ, Clay." His name feels good, falling from his lips, always has, and Clayton trembles at it. Matthew doesn't stop, then, he merely pushes back down to the hilt once more and groans, low and deep. Pushes his forehead against Clayton's chest and ruts into him desperately, chasing after euphoria.

"Come for me, Matty," he gets out, once he can work his throat enough so it's not sandpaper dry. Matthew's the one to whine, this time, and Clayton feels a rush of warmth and awed pride when that does him, apparently, as he stills against him and twitches through.

He's still a little too sensitive, but his body pulses with heat at the sensation of Matthew's seed spilling into him. Clayton smoothes his hands over Matthew's shoulders and back, slides fingers up his neck and through his hair, humming low as the other man shakes through his orgasm. He calms slowly, breath heaving, and Clayton knows he's going to ache tomorrow, can already feel if beginning, but a deep satisfaction is settling into his body, sinking in like smoke even as exhaustion sweeps over him. 

Matthew presses a gentle kiss to his chest. The room is quiet save for the sound of their gentling breaths. 

"Gotta let go so I can move," Matthew says after what might be a minute, might be an hour, might be a small eternity. Something cold locks up in Clayton's chest at the words, something ugly and twisted rearing its head, because _you knew he wouldn't want to stay, didn't you?_

"Just a minute," and he doesn't mean to say it, doesn't mean to sound so raw, keeps his eyes trained up at the ceiling even as he feels Matthew raise his head, "Just, stay for a minute, Matty. Please."

It's silent, for another moment, and his throat constricts and moves, trying to swallow down the emotions that want to bubble up and bleed out of him. He wonders if Matthew is realizing what that this was a mistake, that this'll lead nowhere good, if he's trying to work out how to say that, in that gentle preacher voice of his.

"Alright," he says instead, even and calm, "Not goin' anywhere, just didn't want to crush you."

Relief is a trickle down his spine he doesn't think he ought to feel; shouldn't get his hopes up and delay the inevitable, really, but he breaths deep and nods once, still looking towards the ceiling. He wouldn't've minded, actually, Matthew's full weight pressed against him. Another anchor, a reminder that he's here with him.

He loosens his hold, just minutely, and another stab of panic hits when Matthew shifts. He just pulls out of him with a small hiss of a sound, though and Clayton feels another sudden jolt of relief before shuddering through the emptiness that he feels, clenching on nothing as their come starts to trickle out of him.

"We made a real mess of things it seems," Matthew notes lightly, gentle humor in his words, and Clayton hums softly in agreement. Clothes are strewn about the place, his hat still plopped ungracefully on the floor by the door where Matthew had advanced, pulling him into the initial harsh kiss and knocking it clean off his head in the process. He can't imagine what the sheets must look like between his legs; can't think of a time he's come undone quite this much, either.

And Matthew doesn't leave, true to his word. He gently maneuvers him over to the point where they're sharing the space, laying on their sides. He tugs him into his chest and Clayton goes all too willingly into his arms, limp and pliant in his grasp.

Matthew seems to gather that something is off, because he just tucks Clayton's head under his chin and begins humming low, sound rumbling through his chest and making Clayton shudder once before melting entirely into him. Fingers trace gentle, nonsensical patterns against his spine, and Clayton shuts his eyes against a fresh wave of tears, presses his palms against Matthew's sturdy waist. 

If this is the one time he gets this, then he'll do his best to draw it out as long as he can. 

The humming continues, low and rich, and if Matthew hears his breathing grow a little shaky, if he feels his lashes growing damp against his skin, well. 

He's kind enough not to call Clayton on it. 

"Matty," he chokes out after a while, terrified and shaking with it, shaking with the emotions stuttering in his chest, tries to breathe and loses it again, "Matty?"

"Right here. Ain't going nowhere without you," comes the reply, warm and soothing, hand flattening out to press between his shoulder blades. Clayton chokes out a laugh, brushes his lips against his friend's collarbone and listens to the soft sigh Matthew lets out. 

His heart, his stupid fuckin' heart, clenches with what might be hope.

"Don't fuckin' scare me like that again, you hear?" He bites out, and he doesn't sound intimidating at all with the way his voice is all wobbly and wet, but Matthew doesn't comment on that, either, just huffs out a rueful laugh.

"I almost forgot what we were fighting about," he murmurs. Clayton almost had, too, after the way they grappled and bit and scratched at each other had melted into something softer. He blames the swell of emotions that overtook him, choking out his anger and frustrations and shriveling them until all that was left was Matthew, Matthew, Matthew. "I'll try not to." He continues, not unkind, just genuine and soft and all that he can promise him, really, in the line of work that they're in. 

Clayton will take it, will take anything and everything that Matthew'll give him. He nods against his shoulder, still shaking, still wet at the eyes. Grips tight to him because he doesn't want him to disappear, not now, not ever.

There's another kiss, pressed against his cheek, wiping away his tears and he basks in it. Lets his eyes slip back close and eventually his breathing evens out to something more normal, more slow.

Apparently, they drift off to sleep. He knows he does, at the very least, because the next time he opens his eyes the room is completely dark. He'd panic, worry that Matthew left him after all except for the fact that he's still pressed into him, arm slung over him, snoring into the pillow he's wrangled under his head. Clayton's never been more glad to hear it.

The call of nature presses at his hips with something fierce and he eventually has to extract himself from Matthew's grasp. He's reluctant to, but his need to pee wins out. He doesn't even stir as he removes his arm and wriggles down the mattress. He slips on the closest shirt he can find (he certainly doesn't seek Matthew's out) and buries his nose in the collar of it as he walks to the door.

There's a tray of food waiting at the other side of the door for them, napkins and silverware draped lovingly to the side. It's still warm, judging from the steam curling out from under the plate cover, and that warm part of his heart grows and makes him ache. He doesn't know what they're gonna say to the others, if they do. Doesn't even know what they are, honestly.

He looks back to the bed, back to where Matthew's now sprawled himself out across the sheets. Dangerous as it is, he wants anything Matthew will allow him.

He picks up the tray on the way back from the bathroom, nudging the door shut behind him quietly. Matthew doesn't stir until he sets the tray down on the bedside drawers, Clayton setting it down a little too heavy. The other man grunts, blinking blearily over at him, and Clayton is unsure for a moment, right up until Matthew's gaze falls down to his shirt slipping of Clayton's shoulders and he smiles so wide and beautiful it's like the fuckin' sun rising. 

"Hey," he murmurs, sleep-hoarse and soft, reaching one hand out across the sheets. Something cracks open in Clayton's chest, oozing and all-consuming. "Y'look good in my shirt."

"I love you," claws its way out of his throat, spills past his lips, honest and trembling. Matthew inhales sharp, eyes widening, and Clayton laughs, a little wild, a little desperate, kneeling back onto the bed. "Matty, I love you. Please, I know I don't deserve it, but please, love me back."

The words hang there between them, fragile and loud despite the silence that has begun to stretch and stretch and stretch. Matthew is still staring at him, eyes wide but face otherwise unreadable, and Clayton feels like his heart may as well be laying there bloody and bruised on the sheets by Matty's hand.

He's always wanted too much.

There's a lump growing in his throat and tears stinging at his eyes, and he drops his gaze down to the bed, tries to gather some semblance of calm as he readies himself. "Sorry, I'll just go-"

"Stay," comes the answer, immediate and fierce and so desperate that Clayton's head snaps back up, finds Matthew looking at him with an expression he's only ever seen on the Reverend in church. 

"What?" And he can barely speak, can barely breathe, just stares at the other man and seriously considers praying for the first time in over a decade. 

Matthew moves suddenly, lighting fast, always so damn quick for a man as large as he is, sits up and reaches out and tugs Clayton in close. His hands are trembling, Clayton realizes a little dazedly. He's pretty sure he's shaking, too. 

"Stay," Matthew repeats, hands gentling and stroking over his shoulders, his cheek, carding through his hair, "Stay. I love you, Clayton. You don't need to earn a damn thing, sweetheart, you've always deserved love. Take mine, please."

"You love me?" And his voice still sounds so damned shaky but it doesn't matter, if doesn't matter at all because Matthew is nodding and gently sweeping his thumbs over his cheeks, cradling his face like he's, like he's something precious.

"Yes," and it's whispered against his mouth, pressed into a kiss with more tenderness than he's ever been allowed in his life, "Yes, Clay, I love you."

Clayton laughs, a little disbelieving, a lot relieved, and then they're kissing again, sweet and easy and like they belong together. 

They do belong together, Clayton thinks, as Matthew smiles against his mouth, drops a hand down to press against his heart. They do belong together. Neither God nor demons will change that now.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading!! We had a blast writing this, hopefully you enjoyed reading it just as much. 
> 
> Title is from "Mary" by Big Thief. 
> 
> You can find me, Nevershootamocking bird, on [tumblr](https://nevershootamockingbird.tumblr.com) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/daleytwin1) if you want to yell about anything! You can find Baebadook on [tumblr](https://https://baeuregard.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/Slaybadook) as well!


End file.
